


Before the Rain and Storm

by bwayfan25



Category: The Shape of Water (2017)
Genre: Friendship one-shots, Gen, Period-Typical Ableism, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Prequel, maybe spoilery later on, they are friends and they look after each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-24 02:42:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13204080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwayfan25/pseuds/bwayfan25
Summary: A series of one-shots about Elisa Esposito and her friends, before a normal trip to clean the lab changes their lives forever. Mostly prequel stories, some happier than others. The Asset might show up, as well as other spoilers, so you've been warned.





	1. Oriental Theatre Loft, 1948

The Loft above the Oriental Theatre

November 1948

 

Giles considered the tiles in front of him. His hand brushed back and forth across his beard before he finally gave in.

“I pass. I’m out of good words,” he sighed as he pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So I guess that’s the game.”

Elisa quickly shook her head.

“You’ve got another word? You’ve only got one tile.”

Elisa gave him her sly smile and put her last tile on the board.

“O-E. Oe? Hun, that’s not a word.”

Elisa nodded.

“No, it’s not.”

Elisa nodded again , more vigorously, pointing at the dictionary on the table besides Giles. He sighed and opened it up to the “O” section and ran a finger down the page.

“Oe... oe...” he muttered. “Ah. Here. Oe. A wind off the Faroe Islands.”

Elisa smirked and pulled the blanket closer around her as she sat back in victory. Her breaths felt more shallow, more labored than they had yesterday, and she felt significantly colder despite wearing as much clothing as she could fit under her robe.

“How could you have possibly known that was a word?” Giles asked as he reread the definition once more. 

_ I’m brilliant _ , she signed, still smirking.

“No. You cheated, didn’t you?”

Elisa shook her head, gentler than she did before.

_ I read the dictionary. _

“You read the dictionary?”

Elisa shook her head and hands, as if to clear away what she last said, and tried again.

“You read the dictionary when you were a child?” Giles said, raising an eyebrow. “And you didn’t think you should have told me that  _ before _ we played this game?”

Elisa smiled weakly and handed him the score sheet.

“Alright. Let’s see. I got... 237. Not bad. And you got... 320?! How the- when,  _ where _ did you play a 93 point word?”

Elisa pointed to the word “squelch” vertically down on side of the board, with both the “q” doubled as well as a triple word score.

“Remind me never to play word games with you again,” Giles muttered as he started sweeping the tiles off the board into their bag.

He placed the bag of tiles and the folded board back into the box and replaced it with the lid.

“Where do you want the dictionary? Next to your bed?” Giles joked.

Elisa pointed to a shelf on her far left, past the shoe shelf and the boxes, and then doubled over. 

She had a difficult time coughing. Though the main complaint of the damage to her larynx was her inability to speak, it also made things like laughing and clearing her throat nearly impossible as well. When she did try to cough, it was very raspy and never very successful.

This cold she had wasn’t quite the same as others she’d had. The others she’d been able to work through as long as she made sure to wash her hands frequently and keep Kleenex in her cleaning frock pockets. But this cold, whatever was different about it, it had been wiping her out. This would be the third day she’d have Giles call her in sick.

“So I was thinking,” Giles started as he crossed back to her and sat down. “When you’re sick, the best thing for you is chicken noodle soup. However, when I went to make some I realized I don’t have any chicken. Or a stove. Or any cooking skills. So I was thinking maybe I’d run down the street to the Chinese restaurant and get you some wonton soup. I don’t think there’s chicken in it, but there’s soft noodles which would be good for you. What do you think?”

Giles looked to Elisa. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was agape as she focused on her breathing. He watched for a moment as she raised an arm from under the blanket and let out one of her raspy coughs.

Elisa opened her eyes and looked down at the arm of her robe. 

There was a spot of blood on it.

“Did- did you just cough that up?”

Elisa raised her eyes to look into Giles’. She nodded slowly. 

“Hunny, we need to go to the hospital. Right now.”

_ No,  _ she signed.  _ No hospital. No doctors.  _

“Elisa please. This could be bad. Please let me take you to the doctor.”

Elisa raised her hands shakily to sign a response, but she started coughing  again. 

“That’s it. I’m taking you in. Right now.”

Elisa didn’t feel strong enough to argue and let Giles drag her out into the hall and then the cold, snowy landing.

The car ride to the hospital was very quiet. Indeed, Elisa was  _ always  _ quiet, but usually Giles would hold some sort of conversation, either with her or with himself. But this time he was too worried to say anything.

The lobby of the hospital was rather quiet. Giles made sure Elisa sat down and was comfortable before heading up to the desk.

“Hi I’d like to check somebody in please?” he asked the nurse behind the desk. 

“Yourself or someone else?”

“Uh, someone else. Her name is Elisa, with an s, Esposito. And she can’t talk that’s why I’m doing this part. Also she’s very sick and probably shouldn’t touch anything,” he said with a slight smile. 

“Alright. And how are you related to the patient. Husband? Brother?” the nurse looked up at him and raised an eyebrow . “Father?”

“I’m just her f… father. Yes, I’m her father. She’s… my everything, you know,” Giles said quickly. 

He turned to look at Elisa, who signed  _ my father? _ , a big smirk on her face.

Giles eyes grew big for a moment, before he mouthed back “don’t laugh”.

“Alright. Just fill out these forms and we’ll be out to get her.”

Giles muttered a thank you and took the offered clipboard back to Elisa. 

“Okay. Are you up to filling this out? Or you want me to?”

_ I can do it _ , she signed. He handed over the papers. 

“I’m not good at lying, did you know that?” he murmured as she filled out the forms. “It makes me all hot and sweaty.”

_ Like the picture of Marlon Brando in the newspaper?  _

“Different kind of sweaty. And I guess I shouldn’t be worried about you if you feel well enough to make jokes at my expense,” Giles muttered.

Elisa smirked but quickly started coughing again. Giles took the form from her (mostly to not let any blood get on it) and tentatively rubbed her back for a moment until the episode was over. 

Giles finished the form and took it up to the desk, but not before reading a little more about her medical history (who knew she had broken her arm at age seven?).

“Thank you sir. We’ll take her back momentarily,” the nurse smiled, though it was the kind of smile that didn’t quite extend to her eyes. 

It was not momentary. 

They were sitting there for an hour before a nurse wheeled out a wheelchair to take Elisa back. 

“We have on her chart that she is mute. Is that correct?” the nurse asked Giles, though Elisa was sitting right in front of her. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Can she communicate at all?”

“Yes, ma’am. She uses sign language. Also, she can hear you and is sitting right in front of you so maybe ask her and not me?”

The nurse looked up at him over her glasses and continued addressing him.

“We don’t have any physicians or nurses who can use sign language I don’t believe. Are you comfortable, uh, translating for her?”

“Uh,  _ I’m  _ comfortable with that. Elisa are, are you okay with me coming back?”

Elisa looked right up at him and gave him a look that clearly said “do I have any choice?”

“She’s okay with it.”

“Wonderful,” the nurse said with a fake smile. “Let’s go.”

 

Giles was not needed for long. They had barely asked her any questions before whisking her off to run tests. He ended up back in the lobby, impatiently waiting for news while flipping through magazines (he gave up after receiving a suspicious look from the nurse at the counter for looking through a three-month-old copy of  _ Vogue _ ). 

“Mr. Esposito?” a nurse announced. “Uh, sir?” 

Giles looked up and suddenly remembered his fatherly persona.

“Uh, yes? Yes. That’s me.”

“Come with me please?”

Giles followed her through the double doors and down a long hallway to a small room in the intensive care unit. 

She held open the door and allowed him to enter. Inside was a short white man with thinning blonde hair who was rubbing his chin with his hand. He was intently watching Elisa, who lay asleep on the bed in front of him.

“Uh, you… called for me?”

“Yes, sir,” the doctor said, offering a hand to shake. “You’re her father, yes?”

Giles nodded quickly, and swore he could see the faint trace of Elisa’s smirk out of the corner of his eye.

“Well, we’ve been trying to diagnose what exactly is wrong with her,” the doctor explained. “We suspect tuberculosis given the blood in her mucus.  However, we’ve ran into a problem.”

“Oh no. It’s worse isn’t it? It’s really bad? Please don’t tell me it’s really bad, I don’t think I could take it.”

“No, no sir. She’ll be fine,” the doctor reassured. “The problem we’ve noticed is in our tests. Normally, we would give chest X-rays to view her lungs and diagnose the illness based on patches of bacteria there. But we have given her three X-rays and have not been able to view her lungs once. Something seems to be blocking it, but we cannot identify what it is, neither on the scan itself or by physical examination.”

They both looked down at Elisa’s sleeping form in front of them. 

“So, what now?” Giles asked slowly. 

“Well, we have other tests we’ll try to run, but we’re still very certain it is TB and therefore have started her on medication. We’ll want to keep her for a few more days. Right now, we have some sleeping medicine in the IV bag as well, so she can get some rest.”

The doctor nodded in finality, but lingered for a moment, as if he was going to say something else. But he did not, and instead shook Giles’ hand once more before leaving him alone in the room.

Almost immediately, Elisa opened her eyes. They were half-glazed over, as the sleeping medicine had started to take effect, but she was nonetheless alert. 

“How you feeling?”

_ Sleepy. Cold _ .

“Well, you should feel better soon?” Giles assured. “How-how much of that did you hear?”

_ All _ . 

“I bet. You hope doctors are going to be more accurate, but at least they’re trying, right? Anyways, you should rest. I’ll be here when you wake up. ”

_ But what about your work _ ? She signed, slowly as the medicine took effect and also because the IV prevented her from signing fully with both hands.  _ Or my work _ ?

“I’ll take care of that, okay? Just go to sleep.”

Giles carefully slid her ever-present headband off her head and set it down on the bedside table. He then pulled the blanket up over her a little higher. 

As he turned, he heard a dull tap on the blankets, and turned back. She was smiling weakly as she raised her hand. 

_ Thanks, dad. _


	2. OCCAM Aerospace, 1952

OCCAM Aerospace

January 1952

 

If Elisa was being honest with herself, she missed the war.

Not to say she missed the  _ war _ . She did not miss rationing food, the long lists of dead and missing soldiers in the newspapers, or the numerous news reels playing before films that she could hear through the floor of her apartment.

No. She didn’t miss that.

She missed being needed.

During the war, every man, woman, and child was called to do their part, including her. Every day after she graduated high school, she’d wake up early to catch the bus down to the machinery factory where she worked. She’d line up amongst the other women to punch their cards and start their assigned shifts.

She was always assigned inventory management, though she had spent more than a few shifts on the assembly line too. In the factory, they didn’t care that she couldn’t speak. They only cared that she worked hard, kept detailed notes on the inventory, and kept her area clean (all of which she did very well).

But best of all, they were a team. Every woman- black, white, Latina, married, single-  _ every _ woman was playing her part for the country. And that meant that every woman there was as important as the one next to her, and that meant they had to take care of each other.

And they did.

Though she never was the most popular person around, some bothered to ask how she was and learned enough signs to understand her answer. Some would give her Christmas cards and once she was even invited to attend Mass on Easter.

To Elisa, it wasn’t quite perfect, but it was enough. 

But the war was long gone now.

When the boys started coming home in droves, the women were quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) pushed out the door. Soon the only job she could get was as a housekeeper in a private home.

They had barely bothered to learn her  _ name _ , let alone what any of her signs meant. She took to carrying around index cards with pre-printed phrases and a small notebook and pen just to communicate, and every day started to feel lonelier than the last.

One day, she finally quit.

She had shown up to their house on her day off to deliver small birthday presents to their twin sons. Instead of thanking her or making any mention of the gesture, the father had just asked her to turn over the laundry and take out the trash “since she was already there”.

She snapped. For a solid five minutes, she signed more harshly and strongly than she had in years. She knew they had no idea what she was saying, but it felt so great to let it pour out. Finally, she scribbled “I quit” on a piece of paper and stormed out.

And now, here she was in front of a woman named Yolanda who was explaining to her everything that this OCCAM Aerospace place did (or at least as much as she could with her clearance level)

“So. I’m pairing you up with one of our more experienced cleaners. Her name is Zelda and she’s been here for about, oh I don’t know, five years? Anyways, she’ll show you around and everything. Show you what to do. You’ve done this before so I’m not too concerned.”

Yolanda stood up from her chair and led Elisa down a back hallway to the women’s locker room. 

“This is your locker,” Yolanda said pointing to a green locker on the right hand side of the row. “You can keep your stuff here during your shift. It’s a new lock, so check the back for the code, and then peel it off. And this is Zelda.”

Yolanda pointed at a middle-aged black woman, who was seated in front of a locker a few feet away. She was already rubbing her feet though their shift had not yet begun. 

“Zelda, this is… uh, I don’t remember her name. Eleesa I think.”

Elisa’s eye twitched at the mispronouncing of her name, but shedid nothing to correct Yolanda. Instead she just reached out to shake Zelda’s hand.

Zelda raised an eyebrow at her for a brief moment before taking it.

“Zelda, you’re gonna show her around for a day or two. She’s been a housekeeper or whatever so she knows how to do it, just needs shown where to go and all that. And oh,” Yolanda said, remembering. “She’s, oh what’s the word for someone who can’t talk? Dumb? Yes that. She can’t talk. Well, I’ve got to go change. Oh, and Eleesa, your frock is in the locker. Let me know if it’s the wrong size.”

Yolanda turned and walked away to her own locker. 

“Well, that’s certainly one way to make an introduction,” Zelda muttered before shutting her locker and standing up. “Nice to meet you, uh, Eleesa is it?”

Elisa shook her head. She pointed to her ear and then to her eye. 

_ My name is E-L-I-S-A _ , she signed. Then she made an  _ i _ again and pointed to it and then to her eye.

“Oh. Like eye.  _ Elisa _ . Well, nice to meet you Elisa.”

_ Nice to meet you too _ , she signed in reply. 

“You- you really can’t talk, can you?”

Elisa shook her head. 

“Huh. Alright then,” Zelda said. “Well, hurry up and get changed and I’ll show you where it is we’ll be cleaning.”

Elisa nodded and did as instructed. The little code on the back was going to be easy to remember:  _ 3-18-25 _ . 

Her birthday. Or at least the date the orphanage she was raised in had found her and decided was to be her birthday. The serendipity of this almost meaningless little code being number so close to her felt like a good sign. 

She changed and followed Zelda out of the locker room. 

“First, we gotta get you a cart. Then we’ll go upstairs to floor 3. We do the bathrooms, the floors, and clean labs T-1 through T-5. And if Sue needs us downstairs in the kitchen, we might hop in there too. Basically we’ll go and do whatever we’re told to.”

Elisa nodded. 

Zelda led her down the hall to a storage room in the basement where they found a cart for Elisa and stocked it. Zelda then led them back out into the hall and into a nearby elevator. Right as she pushed the button, it stalled for just a moment before the doors closed and they moved up.

“I’ve been here for seven odd years and never once have I been on this and have it move right the first time,” Zelda said, shaking her head. 

Elisa cocked her head slightly, urging her to explain.

“I was raised here, in Baltimore I mean, but I moved to Virginia when I got married. My husband Brewster was an Army mechanic. Worked on the airplanes. But then my daddy got sick and we moved back. Thought it was lung cancer, but it turned out just to be pneumonia. Still made me realize how old he had gotten though. You never think about that, do you? How you get older and that means your parents do to?”

The elevator door opened and Zelda led the way forward to the first lab. It was empty, so they started first by getting out their brooms and sweeping up.

“My daddy’s still alive, mind you. He’s.. well, he’ll be 83 this year. It’s just him. My mama died after having me. What about you? You got any family around?”

Elisa shook her head as she methodically moved the broom back and forth. 

“Are you from out of town then?”

Elisa shook her head again. 

“Hmmm. Well no family around. Not from out of town. You got any family at all?”

Elisa shook her head once more. Something on her face made Zelda drop the subject.

“Well when we moved back I got a job here and my Brewster got a job fixing the machines at the GM factory.”

They continued sweeping, followed by trash collection and mopping, as Zelda talked about her husband, her time at OCCAM, her husband’s family, the current state of the world, her husband again (she had  _ a lot  _ to say about her husband).

Before they knew it, they’d made their way through the third lab and their stomachs were growling. 

“Alright. We can just park these in here,” Zelda instructed, pushing her cart into a nearby closet. “And we’ll get it when we get back. You bring a lunch?”

Elisa nodded and allowed Zelda to take the lead once again, this time back down for a brief trip to the locker room and then to the cafeteria.

Zelda took her usual place at a table filled with black women. Elisa followed her towards the table, but hesitated when she got close. 

_ Can I sit here? With you _ ? She signed, making sure to emphasize pointing to the chair.

“Of course. Go ahead.”

Elisa signed  _ thank you _ and pulled out the chair. A few of the women at the table gave her a look, but continued chatting.

Zelda pulled out her own lunch from home in nice new green Tupperware that her sister-in-law had given her for her birthday last month. As she picked up her fork and started eating the leftovers, she observed Elisa.

Some of the white girls she showed around would sit with her for a day or two before they found another group of friends or got assigned elsewhere. But Elisa seemed different. 

She seemed to be listening intently to the conversation of the women at the table, who paid absolutely no attention to her. 

“And so we decided to try a different theatre. We went to the Oriental Theatre instead. The one kinda near downtown?” the woman closest to Elisa said. 

Immediately, Elisa’s face lit up. She raised a hand as if she were going to tap the woman’s shoulder to sign something, but instead slowly lowered her hand back to the table and kept eating. 

As they retrieved their carts from the closet following lunch, the pair moved on to the fourth lab on the floor. 

It was the first still to have people in it. Dozens of boiling, smoking, or otherwise active beakers were set up in complex arrays all around the room. Men seemed to bounce back and forth between the sets , clipboards in hand, making notes about the beakers. 

“In here, I try mostly to clean up the floor. Not much else we can do, really. Stay away from their tables. They get very testy if you mess with their stuff.”

Elisa nodded in understanding and waited for Zelda to move her cart into position. 

Above them, a buzzer sounded, which made Elisa jump. 

“Oh don’t mind that. That just goes off sometimes to get the men to go to lunch. See? There they go.”

Elisa watched the men put down their clipboards and begin shedding their lab coats. As they passed out of the door, some of the men handed her their lab coats.

“Just put them in here and we’ll put them with the laundry,” Zelda muttered, motioning to a section of the cart. 

As the men left, Zelda pulled out her broom and set to work. 

“So at lunch,” she began once they were alone . “When Shauntelle brought up the movie. You were gonna say something, weren’t you?”

Elisa pointed to herself, her brow furrowed, as if to say  _ me? _ before shaking her head.

“I saw it. You were gonna tap her on the shoulder,” Zelda said, narrowing her eyes. “What is it you were gonna say?”

Elisa wanted to sigh in frustration, but worried that would be viewed as rude. Instead she went ahead and signed an answer, albeit very slow. 

_ I live on top of the Orpheum Theatre. _

“Okay. Now I don’t understand that-” Zelda began. 

Elisa began to turn away, but Zelda touched her shoulder. Elisa turned back. 

“But I want to. So do it again, slow like you just did, and let me figure it out, alright?”

Elisa considered the woman in front of her for a moment, and then raised her hands once more. 

_ I _

“I. You.”

_ Live _

“Uh… I don’t quite…”

Elisa mouthed the word and made the motion again, her fists moving up her chest. She was working so hard to mouth the word that she could hear her own lips moving. 

“Live… live. Like you live. Alright. You… live… you live where?”

_ On top _ .

“On top. Okay. You live on top of…?”

_ The Orpheum Theatre _ .

“The theatre? You live, oh, I understand. You live on top of the Orpheum Theatre. Wait, you live on top of the Orpheum Theatre?”

Elisa nodded. The corner of her mouth twitched as if she was going to smile, but somehow it felt premature. Like this could just be a fluke, like this would be the one-and-done type of interest in what she had to say that some people had before they forgot about her .

Instead, she just nodded again and continued working. 

Zelda leaned on her broom and looked her partner over. 

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

Elisa’s brow furrowed again. 

“Why didn’t you just say that that? “ Zelda repeated. “When they were talking about the movies?”

Elisa’s face scrunched up and she shook her head. Her cheeks were growing more hot with every passing moment. Without realizing what she was doing, she frantically signed  _ they wouldn’t understand _ .

“I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that one. What’d you say?”

Elisa’s face grew hotter. She shook her head. 

This part always felt like it was tearing her in half. 

She  _ wanted  _ to join in. She  _ wanted  _ to be part of the conversation, to not feel left out. And she  _ desperately  _ wanted to tell Zelda everything. Wasn’t this the whole point of starting over? To start fresh? To find somewhere where people actually cared about her?

But it was so  _ hard _ . Having to explain herself, getting asked hard questions she didn’t want to answer. And the worst part, the absolute  _ worst part _ , was not being understood and the embarrassment that came with it. 

How often in her life did she have to sit through the stares? The faces? Being spoken over and ignored like she wasn’t there. Some would try at first, give her a chance. They’d pretend to care. But so many times she was fooled and left behind, treated like she didn’t even matter. 

Like she wasn’t even human. 

And when people actually cared enough to try, she’d end up here again; longing to connect with them, to let them into her life and to join theirs, and yet she’d stay still, moving neither forward nor back, stuck in an endless cycle she’d never let herself escape. 

“Alright fine,” Zelda said, picking up her broom. “Don’t tell me. I just wondered.”

Elisa bit her lip. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes. 

If Zelda wanted to know, she might as well try. 

_ I didn’t want to be embarrassed _ , she signed.

Zelda looked up as she saw the movement out of the corner of her eye to see a woman that looked on the verge of tears. 

“Okay. Go slow now and I might be able to catch what you mean.”

Elisa gulped. 

_ I get embarrassed when they don’t understand because they stare at me.  _

Elisa’s face was on fire now. She had so much more to say but instead she just lowered her hands and waited. 

“I think- well I think you said something about… knowing? Or not knowing. Not knowing. And they, they look at you?” Zelda said slowly, filling in the blanks. “They look at you because they don’t know what it is you’re trying to say. Is- is that right?”

Elisa nodded, redoubling her grip on the broom. She waited for Zelda to say something, whether it be in defense of the women or to tell her that she was being ridiculous. But instead Zelda’s face was soft and understanding as she laid a comforting hand on Elisa’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry that happens to you, but I promise I won’t do that to you, alright?” Zelda said softly, but with a firmness that Elisa could tell was serious. “And if they ever do, I’ll have words with ‘em. You understand?”

Elisa’s mouth twitched again but this time she let it grow into a full smile. 

_ Thank you _ .

“Of course. Now, let’s get this floor swept up before they get back so we can get to mopping.”

**One Month Later**

 

The elevator opened and Elisa rushed out towards the line of women punching in their cards. 

“Elisa. Get over here.”

Elisa nodded as she practically ran to the line and took the punch card from Zelda. She slid it into the slot, ignoring the groans from the ladies behind her. 

“What was it this time?” Zelda muttered under her breath as they made their way towards the locker room.

_ Bus was late _ .

“Well, hunny, you better catch an earlier bus then because that’s the third time this month. I can’t keep doing this for you. I can keep them from talking about you, but I can’t keep them from being mad at you.”

_ I’m sorry.  _

“I know. Just do better.”

Elisa nodded sincerely. 

They made their way downstairs, changed, and began their shift. Zelda started her nightly ritual of talking about her husband, every so often asking Elisa about this or that. 

About halfway through the night, they were cleaning the downstairs bathroom when Zelda asked if Elisa had read about Britain announcing that they had their own atomic bomb.

“We got one. The Russians got one. Now the British got one. Who else needs one? Why do we even need  _ one _ in the first place? We killed enough people with guns back in the War. And the Great War too. Do we really need to be able to kill millions of people in one shot and poison anyone else around it?”

_ It is all very scary. That’s for sure _ .

“Mmhmm. Big men in their offices playing power games, not caring who might get hurt. Elisa, that there is the entire history of the United States of America.”

Elisa nodded, then smirked. 

_ Are they compensating for something _ ?

Zelda gave her the you-did-not-just-say-that look, before letting out a laugh. Elisa smiled broadly. 

Then it struck her. 

“What? What’s wrong, hunny?” Zelda asked, concerned, as Elisa’s face changed into something more between confusion and awe.

_ You haven’t asked me to repeat anything today _ .

Zelda paused for a moment. 

“I guess I haven’t.”

Elisa brightened. 

_ You understand me! _

“I guess I do,” Zelda said slowly. “Not all of it all the time, but I guess I understand you pretty well.”

Without warning, Elisa dropped her bucket and wrapped Zelda in a huge hug. Zelda, surprised, patted her back for a second, before letting go and hugging her back.

When they pulled apart, Elisa was still smiling broadly. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Zelda said, though she too was smiling. “Now get that spilled water cleaned up before it soaks into our shoes.”

Elisa nodded happily and set to work mopping up the water. 

This job was already better than the last and it had only been a month.


	3. Our Lady of Sorrows Orphanage, 1933

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series has a theme of relationships and friendships, so I explored a childhood friendship for Elisa, and how it affected her relationship later on. I'm taking a lot of creative license for most of the story, but there are very major spoilers at the end, so you've been warned.

**Our Lady of Sorrows Orphanage**

May 1933

 

Elisa was particularly proud of herself today. 

She had beaten every person in her class on their math test today. They were being tested on their times tables and the teacher had promised the person who got the highest grade would get a piece of candy. Three and a half years into the Depression, candy was a rare treat.

So here she was, savoring the peanut buttery taste of half of her Mary Jane taffy as she all but skipped home, her school bag over her shoulder (the other half was safely wrapped in the wrapper to save for later).

She kept her distance behind the older children, close enough that the nuns wouldn’t get mad, but far enough away that she didn’t have to be an easy target for the bullies of the group. Today, she would have been willing to move closer. She just felt that good. 

Because did they have candy today? No, they didn’t. 

Elisa skip-walked all the way back to her room at the orphanage. It was a Friday, which meant she would do her chores and then have time to play. But first, she’d grab her copy of  _ Doctor Dolittle _ from under her pillow to hide in her dress in case she got a chance to take a break and read.

But upon returning to her room, she found that the book was not there. Nor were any of her things.

“Are you looking for this?” an older female voice said from behind her.

She turned to see Sister Geraldine, the older nun in charge of the orphanage, holding a small box in one hand and her book in the other. 

Elisa nodded and took the items from her. Inside the box there was a set of fresh sheets. 

“First of all, you know you are not allowed to keep books here. They belong to the orphanage and therefore belong to God, so if you steal from us you are stealing from God.”

Elisa tried to sign  _ I wasn’t stealing, I was borrowing _ , but Sister Geraldine raised hand. 

“I don’t want to hear it. What’s important right now is that you move your items to the top bunk. You are getting a new roommate who requires use of the bottom bunk.”

Elisa didn’t have time to ask any questions before Sister Mary Elizabeth, the youngest and most favored nun amongst the girls, appeared behind Sister Geraldine.

“Excuse me ladies,” Sister Mary Elizabeth said softly. “Are we ready?”

“Yes, Sister. Please bring her in.”

Sister Geraldine stepped aside to allow the younger woman through. She was followed by a very short white girl with glasses and long hair who carried herself on forearm crutches. As she moved, she seemed to be looking around intently at her new lodgings.

“Mae, this is Elisa. Elisa, this is Mae Goldstein. She will be your new roommate,” Sister Geraldine informed her. 

Mae looked from the nun to the girl in front of her, then shook her arm out of her crutch to offer a hand.

“It’s nice to meet you Elisa.”

Elisa slowly took the girl’s hand before signing  _ it’s nice to meet you too _ . 

Mae looked up at Sister Geraldine. 

“Is she deaf?”

“No. She can hear you. She just can’t talk.”

Mae looked back to Elisa, who looked uncomfortable, but still offered a shy smile. Mae’s brow furrowed slightly. They observed each other for a moment, before Mae looked up again. 

“Sister Geraldine, I’m very tired. Can I sit down?”

“Yes of course dear. Elisa, please move so Mae can sit down.”

Elisa just about jumped out of the way to allow the other girl a seat. As she sat down, the two nuns smiled. 

“We’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Elisa, you do not have to do your chores tonight so that you and Mae may get to know each other.”

And with that, they left, leaving the two girls alone together. 

Mae kept looking around. Elisa didn’t catch herself backing up until she hit the corner. 

“This is a very small place,” Mae observed. “But the room is nice. Have you lived here for long?”

Elisa nodded. Slowly, she pointed to Mae’s fresh sheets, and then to the bed, and then to herself. 

“You want to put the sheets on the bed? For- for me?”

_ If you want _ . 

“I don’t understand.”

Elisa nodded. 

“Oh. Alright. Just give me a moment to breathe. It was a long trip here.”

Elisa nodded again.

“You- you can sit next to me if you won’t. If you want. I don’t bite,” Mae said, with a slight smile, before a small look of horror passed over her face. “And- and I’m not sick anymore. I promise. A lot of people treat me like I’m still sick, but I’m not. I was sick a very long time ago.”

Elisa cocked her head to the side ever so slightly, without realizing she had done so. Mae took this as an encouragement to go on.

“It was, it was…” Mae dropped her voice. “Polio. The grownups don’t want me to tell no one because they think it’ll scare them. But you’re not scared, right?”

Elisa quickly shook her head. This time it was Mae who cocked her head. 

“How did you lose your voice? Have- have you ever had a voice?” Mae asked, still in her hushed tone.

Elisa paused for a moment and then shook her head. Slowly, she reached up to her neck and pushed back her hair to reveal three even thin scars. Once Mae had noticed them, she turned her head so she could she they were on the other side too.

“So… you’re like me then,” Mae stated. “You can’t remember anything else, right? It’s just how it’s always been, but people still feel like it’s different and strange.”

Elisa stared for a moment. That was  _ exactly  _ how she felt. 

Elisa nodded once more, this time more seriously. And to her joy, Mae smiled.

 

Over the next hour or so, Mae asked Elisa questions that Elisa tried to answer to the best of her ability. Once Mae felt rested, Elisa helped put her bed sheets on and then showed her the different small toys she’d found and cleaned up to keep over the past few years. 

Soon, they found themselves seated at long benched tables, slightly separate from the rest of girls. Sister Mary Elizabeth led them in a blessing for the food, with all the girls performing the sign of the cross at the blessing’s completion. 

“Why did you do that?” Mae whispered across the table as the Sisters started passing out bowls of soup.

Elisa considered the question for a moment and realized she didn’t quite have an answer, so she just shrugged.

Mae gave her a confused look for a moment, but shrugged too. 

“Here you are, ladies,” Sister Geraldine said in a very sweet tone Elisa had rarely ever heard before (though that was to be expected as most of her experiences with the Sister had involved a caning of some kind).

Mae looked down at the soup in front of her. 

“Uh, Sister Geraldine?” she asked in a timid voice as the Sister set down a small piece of bread next to he bowl. 

“Yes, my dear?”

“Does this have ham in it?”

“Yes it does. Hambone and potato soup. A rare treat.”

“Uh…” Mae bit her lip. “I’m not supposed to eat ham. It comes from pigs and God said eating pigs is dirty and we shouldn’t do it.”

Sister Geraldine’s soft expression immediately hardened. 

“Well dear,” she said, her sweet tone turning just a little  _ too _ sweet. “You will soon learn that we do not abide by those same rules here. But you are always allowed to turn down meals here. However, you must do so with the understanding that you do not get anything else to eat until the next meal.”

And with that, Sister Geraldine moved on down the table. 

Mae took a good long look at the soup and then pushed the bowl away from her. 

Elisa did not understand what the whole thing about the pigs meant, but regardless, she glanced around for a moment and then pushed her bread forward. 

“Oh no. I couldn’t-” Mae started, but Elisa cut her off with a look. 

Wordlessly, Mae took the offered bread and began to eat.

Later on, Mae waited in their shared room for her new roommate to return. As soon as dinner had been cleared away, Elisa had all but disappeared. Mae was left to find her room on her own, a trek that ended in various dead ends and a very long rest on the bed. 

As Mae settled into the bed and pulled out the one book she owned to read, Elisa crept back into the room. 

But right as Mae was about to open her mouth and ask where she had been, Elisa raised a finger to her lips. Her other hand was holding something in her shirt. 

“I don’t under-”

Before Mae could finish her sentence, Elisa walked quickly over to her bed and dropped the contents of her shirt. Several apples and a few bread rolls tumbled out onto Mae’s bed.

“Elisa!” Mae exclaimed, but she was quickly shushed by her roommate. “Sorry, sorry. But…. where did you get these?  _ How  _ did you get these?” 

Elisa just held the finger to her lips for another moment, before reaching into her skirt pocket and pulling out a crinkled paper with writing on it. 

_ For you. In case of pigs _ . 

Mae read the note several times, before her face lit up. 

“Oh Elisa, thank you!” she said as she practically lunged forward to hug her roommate. 

Elisa was quite taken aback by the gesture, but did not immediately break it apart. When they did, she wore an expression of both comfort and trepidation. 

“Thank you so much,” Mae repeated. “But- but… isn’t this stealing?”

_ Not stealing. Borrowing. _

“I don’t know what that means,” Mae said, biting her lip again. “Do you have a book or anything I can use to learn? So I can know what you’re saying?”

Elisa hesitated for a moment. Then took a deep breath.

She slid off the bed onto the floor and crawled halfway underneath Mae’s bed. Slowly, she lifted one of the loose floorboards up and took out a very old book.

As she sat down, she handed it to Mae, who observed the front cover.

_ The American Manual Sign Dictionary, 7th ed. Updated for 1916. _

Mae’s curiosity turned the book over so she could look at more of the pictures. As she started quickly turning the pages, scanning through, Elisa had to fight the urge to rip her most prized possession out of the girl’s hands for fear of damage.

“You learned… from this?” Mae whispered, turning the pages more slowly now.

She looked up at Elisa, who nodded.

“Do- does anyone else know, you know, how to understand you? The Sisters or your teacher at school? Anyone?” Mae asked, her voice full of concern. 

Mae looked to Eliza again, who slowly shook her head.

“Well your friends do at least, right?” Mae asked, though the look on Elisa’s face was clear. “You… you don’t have any friends, do you?”

Elisa at that moment became very interested in her skirt hem.

“Well, I don’t have any friends either,” Mae stated, closely the book suddenly. “So you be my friend and I’ll be yours. And I’ll learn how to understand you so that you can talk to people and they can talk to you, okay?”

Elisa slowly looked up at Mae, who had a very matter of fact look on her face, as if that was the end of their conversation. Her mouth twitched into a small smile as she slid her hand into her skirt pocket and pulled something small wrapped in a ripped wrapper and handed it to Mae.

She took it, a little unsure of what could be wating for her, only to find the other half of the Mary Jane taffy Elisa had been awarded at school. Elisa nodded for her to take it, and as Mae slipped the candy into her mouth, they both had the feeling that a beautiful friendship was set to begin. 

 

And indeed, it did. From that moment on, Elisa and Mae were inseparable. 

Mae quickly picked up sign language, becoming Elisa’s de facto interpreter, and in turn, Elisa assisted Mae with getting around or carrying things. Their bond was so strong that soon visitors to the orphanage did not recognize there were two people being discussed when their names were said, as the words had morphed into what sound like a singular name: Elisa Mae. 

They moved from room to room twice as they grew and required larger living spaces. Junior high turned into high school, and they soon found themselves growing closer to a degree neither of them could have predicted as the pair had the unique ability to be together all day during school, spend all their free time together, and yet still enjoy each other’s company daily. 

They shared their deepest fears and secrets with each other. Elisa would listen (semi-) intently to Mae’s constant updates on the world’s news as she read the many, many books she would borrow from the library (truly borrow, not her definition of borrow). 

When Mae took an interest in writing and wished to experience kissing so she could better describe it on the page, she and Elisa barely questioned trying it together (the first time as a test, the second through thirteenth times just because they felt like it).

All was perfect, until it wasn’t.

By the time they graduated high school in 1943, World War II was in full swing. Elisa had taken her job at the factory immediately following graduation, while Mae had taken to helping the aging nuns care for the younger girls at the orphanage.

One Thursday in late August, Elisa returned to their room, ready to fill Mae in on the day’s events only to find her bed, drawers, and desk cleaned off. 

She rushed to the main parlor where the Sisters were apt to sit, and began signing frantically to anyone who was there.

“Calm down, calm down,” the now very old Sister Geraldine instructed. “You know I can’t understand you when you go that fast.”

Elisa, who was breathing heavily now, tears forming in her eyes, took a deep breath and signed simply  _ where’s Mae? _

“In the foyer. She’s been waiting for you.”

Elisa sprinted out of the door and down the hallway to find Mae waiting in the small foyer as promised, one single suitcase and a small backpack carrying all of her possessions. 

_ You’re… leaving? _

“Don’t act so surprised,” Mae said solemnly. “You knew this day was coming.”

Elisa’s brow furrowed, her mouth slightly agape. 

“Don’t play dumb, Elisa.”

Mae was immediately gripped by guilt as she saw a look of deepest hurt pass over Elisa’s face at the use of the word. She herself grimaced in shame.

“I didn't’t mean that. I’m sorry. It’s a figure of- oh nevermind. I’m sorry. But it’s time for me to go.”

_ Go? Go where? _

“Away. To school. That’s why I said not to be so surprised, because you knew this was coming. It’s- Elisa it’s all I’ve been able to talk about for months. You- you have been paying attention, right? You weren’t ignoring me.”

_ Of course not, _ Elisa signed.  _ But it’s not time yet. You still have time. _

“No I don’t. The quarter starts next week, and I have to go claim my room and get things set up before the classes begin. I have to go now. Later on, once I’m settled, you’ll be able to visit me on weekends if you want. You can take the train-”

Mae tapered off. Elisa stared for a moment. She held up a finger asking for a moment, and began pacing back and forth across the small room. She absently fiddled with the scarf she tied up her hair in at work that she had yet to take off. 

Suddenly, she stopped and turned to face Mae directly. 

_ Okay. I will go with you. They will make me leave soon too. I will go with you and work in the city. Then you and I can get an apartment- _

“There is no ‘you and I’, Elisa,” Mae said firmly. “You- you have a job. They count on you. You can’t leave now. I- I’m leaving so I can go do that. So I can go to school and get a job and be someone that they can count on. . You understand, don’t you?”

Elisa stared, tears starting to flow freely down her cheeks.

_ You. And me. Together. It’s supposed to be you and me together _ , Elisa repeated.  _ Always _ .

“You have to go on without me.”

_ I will not. _

“Elisa please. Just…” Mae sighed, rubbing tears from her own eyes. “Come here. In front of me, please.”

Elisa hesitated for a moment, and then knelt down in front of the chair Mae sat in as instructed. Mae put a gentle hand on Elisa’s cheek, which Elisa instinctively laid her own hand over. 

“Elisa, my love, we both knew this was never going to last,” Mae said softly. “I will always love you and care for you, I promise. But there is no version of this story where we end up together. All I can ask is that we part ways here as friends. Please just give me that.”

Elisa looked into Mae’s eyes for one long moment before she stood up. Mae waited with bated breath for what felt like ages before Elisa finally raised her hands. 

She linked her forefingers together in the sign for  _ friend _ . Mae almost dared to smile before Elisa jerked her hands apart and spun on her heel, leaving Mae alone.

The message was clear.

_ You are no friend of mine. _

****Twelve Years Later** **

 

1955

“I picked up your mail when I went to get mine. I hope that’s okay,” Giles said, tossing a pile of envelopes onto her table, careful not to interrupt her carefully laid out cutlery. “Just some bills, a coupon for buy one get one free mothballs- I mean who seriously needs that many anyways? Oh, and a letter from New York City.”

Elisa’s jaw clenched for a moment, but she did not raise her hands to respond, instead deciding to carry on preparing their dinner.

“Who’s Mae West?”

_ Nobody.  _

“Are you sure? Because she wrote you a handwritten letter. Hang on,” Giles said, observing the envelope closer. “I’ve seen this handwriting before. She’s sent you other letters too.”

_ Has she? I didn’t notice _ .

“Come on, hunny. Of course you noticed. My only question is- you have other friends?”Giles asked, his tone incredulous. Elisa gave him a look. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I meant to say… you have other friends?”

_ She is not my friend _ .

“Okay fine. But you’ll at least read her letter, right?”

Elisa shrugged.

“Can I read the letter?”

Elisa shrugged again.

“Can I read the letter out loud so we both can hear it?”

Elisa turned quickly, her eyes flashing at him. 

“Sorry, sorry. No more questions. I’ll just read it.”

Giles tore open the envelope and pulled out a typewritten letter on light yellow stationery. It had a double lined border, and featured a header at the top that read  _ From the desk of Mae Goldstein West. _

_ My dearest Elisa,  _

_ I can only hope at this point that you are alive and well, as I have long since given up hope that you will ever reply to my notes.  _

_ It has been a while since I have written, I know. I was promoted to Assistant Editor at the publishing house I work for now, which has added a lot of responsibility to my already loaded plate. Plus I have a family now, which makes things stressful. _

_ It has also been a while since writing because as much as I care for you, I find it emotionally draining to spend time hoping you’ll reply. Part of me hopes this is no longer your address and there are other reasons you have not responded, but a bigger part of me knows why, and that is not the case.  _

_ I just wanted to drop a line once more, if only to tell you this is the last one, should I not hear back from you. I love you dearly, as you are and always will be my oldest friend, but it is not worth my time to wait on you. Our time here is only borrowed. Best to not to let bygones steal it away. _

_ I do hope to hear back from you soon. If not, I wish you all the best.  _

_ Your friend,  _

_ Mae Goldstein West _

_ P.S. I’ve enclosed a photo of my daughter. I thought you should know- we named her Elisa _

Giles finished reading and immediately read it again. He then found the enclosed picture and looked at the photo of a one year old girl happily playing with toys.

“They… they named their daughter after you? And you’ve never once talked about her?” Giles said slowly, looking between the letter and the woman in front of him. “Who is this woman and dear God, what happened between you that you won’t even answer her letters?”

Elisa did nothing, save for a small jerk of her head, and continued cooking. 

“She’s your friend, right? Or is she… not your friend?” Giles prompted. Then he paused and seemed to drop his voice. “Were you in love with her? I won’t judge if you were. I mean how could I? I’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite.”

Elisa stared at the wall for a long moment before finally signing  _ I loved her once _ .  _ But not anymore _ .

Giles tried a few more times throughout the night to goad her into more conversation on the matter, but Elisa seemed steadfast in her disinterest to talk or reply to this Mae who had written her the letter. Finally Giles gave up, and resigned to himself he would never know more. 

(Elisa did give in and reply to this letter, if only to tell Mae she was alive and well, that the address was correct, and that her daughter was beautiful. Mae wrote back only a few more times before finally stopping altogether. Elisa sobbed terribly the night of the last letter, but couldn’t bring herself to write back again.)

****Seven years after that** **

 

Canal Docks

October 11, 1962

The Asset grew weaker as she and Giles helped him towards the water’s edge. They had so little time left. If they didn’t get him to the water soon, he’d be truly gone, and then what would she do with herself?

Giles had her beloved creature pat his head once more, with the creature asking for him to do the same, before Giles respectfully stepped back allowing her space to say her goodbye. 

She looked up at him, his eyes piercing her soul like they always did.

He wasn’t lighting up now. He wasn’t happy now. He knew what was coming, and so did she. 

But she couldn’t bear to start it. 

Luckily, she didn’t need to, because he gave her the signs she knew all too well.

_ You and me together. _

Tears, so far hidden within the water of the heavily falling rain, poured harder than they had so far. 

_ No- without me _ , she signed back.  _ Without me _ . 

The creature, her beloved beautiful fishman, stared at her, not knowing what to do next. Had she not come to go with him? 

Elisa watched him process this, her tears flowing harder than she thought possible. 

Suddenly, a huge weight of guilt settled over her already guilty heart. 

Was this how Mae had felt? All those years ago? Telling her, Elisa, that she had to go on without her? Had it been this hard for her? 

Elisa had never really stopped to consider how it could have hurt Mae to let her go, as it hurt Elisa to let the Asset go now. 

She knew her time with her beloved creature was borrowed. She had to give him back. He was not meant to live here on land with her. She had to let him go on without her, even if it meant shattering her own heart into innumerable pieces.

As she was ready to sign once more, she looked up at the creature just in time for two shots to ring out. SHe had just barely been able to react to seeing the bullet holes in her beautiful creatures chest, had just barely had time to turn and see who could have possibly done this (like she really had to ask) before something suddenly hit her in the stomach. 

She looked down at her stomach. She poked her finger through the new hole in her sweater.

Right into the blood of her bullet wound. 


	4. Loft Apartments, 1959

**Loft Apartments**

February 1959

 

Music drifted into Elisa’s apartment from below the floorboards. It was one of the best parts about living above the movie theatre. When they’d play musicals, she could hear every sound and note. It gave her something to dance to other than her record player.

Sometimes Giles would even join her and they’d open their doors and waltz in and out. They weren’t great at the waltz, but it would always serve to break the monotony.

But tonight the music was different. It wasn’t a musical, or at least not one she’d recognized. The music was romantic, but more subdued, and she could have sworn she heard the lead actress cry.

To her it, it fit. 

It was a Saturday night, a night usually reserved for reverie and fun, and it also happened to be Valentine’s Day. 

And she was alone. 

So in her mind, subdued romance, even broken romance, was more appropriate for this evening.

Elisa sighed and continued stirring the sauce on the stove. Carefully, she wrapped a dish towel around the handle of the pot and poured the sauce over a piece of beef waiting in a casserole dish nearby. 

She was off this particular evening, which meant she’d actually eat dinner at the typical dinner time. She and Giles of course. Neither of them had anything to do or anywhere to go or anyone to celebrate with except each other. 

As she slid the dish into the oven and set the timer and tried not to imagine what a romantic dinner  with some faceless stranger would be like, a different music drifted into her apartment. It was louder, or at least the voice was, than the movie below her feet. 

Curious, she followed the sound out of the kitchen and to the door. Slowly, she opened it and crept into the hall. 

The music was coming from Giles’ apartment. The door was unlocked, so Elisa slowly and quietly pushed it open.

“ _ You’d be so easy to love. So easy to idolize all others above. So sweet to waken with. So nice to sit down to eggs and bacon with _ ,” he sang in a cool baritone. 

Elisa couldn’t help but smile. At least  _ someone _ was in a good mood tonight.

“ _ We'd be so grand at the game,so carefree together that it does seem a shame…That you can't see, your future with me. 'Cause you'd be, oh, so easy to love _ .”

Elisa made to slide in through the crack in the door, but one of the cats stepped in front of her and she stumbled inside, doing her best not to step on it.

The sudden noise of her feet against the hardwood caused Giles to jump and spin quickly in her direction. She smiled sheepishly. 

“Oh. It’s just you. You scared me.”

_ Sorry.  _

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said, waving her away. “You’re just so quiet.”

Elisa gave another sheepish smile. 

_ I didn’t know you could sing!  _ She signed, brightening.  _ Your voice is good! You should sing more. _

Giles shook his head. 

“I don’t sing anymore.”

_ Why not? _

“I lost my accompanist a while back. I don’t sing anymore.”

Elisa cocked her head slightly, her brow furrowing. She sat against the back of the couch.

Giles rocked his head side to side for a moment, before taking a deep breath.

“His name was Rudy. An old Navy buddy of mine.”

Giles sighed again.

_ You were in the Navy? _

“Didn’t I tell you that?” Giles said.

Elisa shook her head.

“Ah well,” Giles shook his head slightly. “It was a long time ago. Only a short while. Back during the Great War.”

_ The Great War?  _ Elisa signed, raising an eyebrow. 

“Hunny, I’m a lot older than you think I am.”

_ I thought you were fifty-nine. _

“Okay. Maybe I’m not,” Giles said, acknowledging her very accurate guess. “But if you do the math, I was only fourteen or fifteen when the war broke out. You know. About the same age you were in the Second World War started.”

Elisa smirked. 

_ I’m a lot younger than you think I am. _

“You can’t pull that one on me. I’ve seen your birth certificate.”

Elisa’s smirk turned into a shit-eating grin.

_ How do you know that’s my real birth certificate? _

“Do you want to hear the story or not?”

Elisa’s smile vanished. She looked down at her skirt and quickly nodded.  

“That’s what I thought,” Giles said with a small huff. “Anyways, Rudy was my best friend growing up so when we got old enough, we enlisted. Very end of the war. Barely stepped in the trenches let alone fought in ‘em.”

Giles paused, the memories flooding back.

“You know, all it takes is one bullet. We were in Germany, assisting with the clean up effort. War was over. They’d surrendered. But there were still, I don’t know what to call ‘em. Let’s just say… there were still some angry people, and it just came out of nowhere. Hit him once in the stomach. All it took.”

Tears started forming in his eyes. He sniffed once, and lifted his glasses off his nose to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. 

There was a small tap on the couch behind him. He slid his glasses back on his nose and looked to Elisa.

_ You sang with him? _

“What? Oh yeah. Yes, yes. He… he was a good piano player and he thought I had a decent enough voice. He’d tap out a tune, normally some Vaudeville thing, and I’d sing along.” Giles gave a weak smile, barely containing his tears. “He was the first man I ever loved. I miss him.”

Elisa smiled sadly. He made to turn, but before he could, Elisa waved a hand towards him. 

_ You could honor his memory by singing more. _

This time it was Giles who smiled slightly. He wagged a finger at her as he turned.

“You just want me to sing more.”

Elisa grinned.

She waved at him again as he turned back.

_ You’re good. And you can, so you  _ _ should _ , she signed, emphasizing the final word. Then she raised her eyebrows.  _ Not all of us can do that. _

Giles sighed. 

“You’ve got a point there dear.”

Giles made to hand her whatever he had picked up from near his bed, but immediately pulled it back. Elisa leaned over to see what he had, but he immediately pushed it behind his back.

_ What is it? _

“Nothing. Nothing. Just uh…”

Elisa gave him a look, raising her eyebrows, her eyes moving down to where his hands were then back up. 

_ For me? _

“Uh… not exactly,” Giles said, shifting it still further away.

Her face immediately hardened. She rose from her perch on the back of the couch. 

_ Give it to me _ .

“Elisa it’s not for-”

_ Give it to me _ , she signed forcefully.

“Fine, fine. Here,” he admitted and held out an almost-empty bottle of some dark amber liquid.

Slowly, Elisa raised a hand and took the offered bottle. For a moment she just stared at it, her mouth slightly agape. Then her right hand rose.

_ Ten _ , she signed, before looking up at him. She tucked the bottle under her arm.  _ Ten. Ten months.  _

_ “ _ I know.”

_ Ten months. _

_ “ _ I know.”

_ Ten months _ , Elisa signed again, slamming the bottle down on the table.

“ _ I know _ ,” Giles shouted, his sudden increase in volume making Elisa jump.

He looked down, his chest starting to heave. He slid his glasses off and ran a hand over his eyes.

“I thought,” he said in a low voice. “I thought I could have a glass. Just a glass. And if I drank it slow-”

Elisa waved a hand in front of him. He slid his glasses back on to see her. Her face was hard.

_ You can’t. You can never drink. Nothing. You drink nothing, _ Elisa signed furiously. 

Then she had a thought. Without another sign, she started tearing through the apartment.

“What are you looking for?” 

She didn’t turn back to him as she intently searched. 

_ More. _

“Elisa I don’t know what you just said. I can’t see your hands-”

Elisa snapped back around.

_ More. _

“More? More what?”

Elisa pointed to the bottle and then repeated the sign.

_ Is there more? _

“More? No. No there’s no more. I bought one bottle. Just one.”

Elisa quickly stepped up in front of him and stared intently into his face.

_ Look at me.  _ _ Don’t _ _ lie to me. _

“I’m- I’m not,” Giles replied. “I swear.

_ You swear? _

“I swear. I promise. I swear,” Giles repeated. 

Elisa stared at him for a moment. He could see her jaw clenching. She was shaky, her breathing slow and measured.

_ Why?  _ She signed, shaking her head slightly.  _ Why did you do it _ ?

“Why do you think, Elisa?” Giles asked with a derisive snort. “Because I was  _ tired _ . I was tired, and lonely and-”

_ I’m ALWAYS tired. I’m ALWAYS lonely _ , she signed, her movements growing larger as she grew angrier.  _ And you don’t see me destroying myself! _

The words sliced right through Giles, but Elisa wasn’t done.

_ You should have gone to a meeting. You should have called your sponsor.  _

_. _ A wave of anger rippled back through Giles’ chest.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he said sternly, pointing a finger right at her. 

Elisa raised her hands to respond, but at that moment, as if they could read each other’s minds, they both stopped themselves from saying anything further. For a moment there was only silence, save for both of their heavy breathing. 

“You know I hate them. The meetings. I hate going to them,” Giles said quietly. “And now they’ll… they’ll just-”

There was a pause as Giles’ unspoken words hung in the air.

Elisa took a long deep breath. 

_ You can start again,  _ Elisa signed before laying a gentle hand on Giles’ shoulder. 

Then, as if struck by another idea, she looked around once more before finding the book she sought on his bedside table. She opened it and pulled out a folded sheet. She ran a finger down it, before turning it and pointing out a location and time, followed by a second and third. 

_ Three. There are three tomorrow. Pick one. I’ll go with you. _

Giles just stared for a moment. His chest still felt ready to heave, but it didn’t. Instead, he let out a long shaky breath and pulled Elisa in his arms. She was so short that he could rest his chin on the top of her head. He could smell her shampoo, and could feel the silk of her headband. 

“Thank you.”

They stood there for a long moment before Elisa finally pulled away, a finger to his chest.

“What?” he chuckled softly. 

_ You have to sing for me. _

“Elisa-”

_ Please. _

Giles chuckled, and hugged her once more.

“Fine.”

_ For me...  and for Rudy. You can sing when you feel lonely, okay?  _ Elisa offered with a smile, before her face turned momentarily serious.  _ But you can’t drink.  _

“I can do that.”

Elisa smiled again. From across the hall, her timer went off. They both looked towards the sound. When Elisa turned back, one of her hands was already raised

_ Dinner? _

Giles looked towards his watch.

“But it’s not 11 pm yet.”

Elisa rolled her eyes and started towards the door, waving him to come with her. 

 

They ate dinner, though this time they actually bothered to set the table  _ and  _ sit down at it. It was fairly quiet, as it usually was, save for the music coming through the floor.

As the sounds of the movie reminded them that it was in fact Valentine’s Day, Giles offered to run to the dime store on the corner and grab a cheap box of chocolates.

He did, and the rest of the night was spent in front of his television, alternating between a marathon of  _ I Love Lucy  _ reruns and listening to Elisa’s record player. 

Around eleven, Elisa started feeling drowsy, having effectively kept herself awake since the night before in order to fully enjoy her weekend off. 

“I think you should go to bed. And by bed, I do mean the bed. Not the sofa.”

Elisa smiled sleepily and pushed herself up into a standing position. Then she stopped.

“What?”

_ You have to sing me something before I go to bed. _

“Elisa, it’s late-”

_ No! Sing. Please.  _

Giles let out a long sigh, and tried to stare Elisa down into saying no. But she was much better at that than him, which led to him pulling out one of her Duke Ellington records and putting it on the turntable. He placed the needle and music began to swell as he offered her a hand. 

She looked from it to him, her head tilted slightly.

“Well, if you’re gonna make me sing, then I’m gonna make you dance.”

Elisa smiled and pretended to roll her eyes, but took his hand. Giles’ cue to sing came in right as they started swaying.

“ _ Missed the Saturday dance. Heard they crowded the floor. Couldn't bear it without you. Don't get around much anymore,”  _ he sang softly, as she leaned her head against his chest. “ _ Thought I'd visit the club. Got as far as the door. They'd have asked me about you. Don't get around much anymore. _ ”

Suddenly, something dripped onto Elisa’s head. She pulled it up to find Giles crying. She pulled away and was ready to raise her hands to sign something, when he shook his head.

“Oh hunny,” he said with a slight chuckle. “Look at me. I really don’t get around much anymore. Oh, sometimes I wonder if it’s even worth trying anymore. Is there anyone out there? Am I past my prime? I don’t know.”

_ No _ , Elisa signed in response, her face serious.  _ There  _ _ is _ _ someone. Someone for you. Perfect for you. A nice man. And there’s- _

Her hands paused mid-air. The look on her face made it clear she wasn’t sure if she could complete the thought.

“And there’s someone perfect for you too,” Giles finished. 

Elisa considered him for a moment, and then nodded.

“We won’t be tired and lonely forever.”

_ No. Not forever. There’s someone out there for both of us,  _ Elisa signed, nodding as she did so to show him her seriousness.  _ We just haven’t met them yet. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things I wanted to say:  
> 1) I put Giles around 62, Elisa around 37, and Zelda around 44 at the time of the movie. That's not *incredibly* important to this chapter, but I felt it should be said.  
> 2) My headcanon is that, sadly, like most substance users, Giles relapsed more than once before he finally gets sober (which in this case would be at the time of the movie). In my head, this is his first relapse. The time, meetings, and sponsors Elisa references all have to do with Alcoholics Anonymous (and other 12 Step programs, but his specifically is AA).


	5. OCCAM Level 3, 1961

**OCCAM Level 3**

**December 1961**

 

Zelda pushed her cart forward towards the basement, every so often picking her hands up off the cold metal and squeezing them into fists.

“It’s just too damn cold,” she muttered, more herself than to Elisa, who was not far behind her. 

Elisa nodded anyways.

“In here,” Zelda instructed.

She moved her cart to one side of the door to park it and then pulled the door open to let Elisa through. Once Elisa was in, Zelda followed.

“Oh my Lord,” Zelda said loudly as soon as she had stepped into the bathroom. “It’s frozen.”

She wasn’t wrong. 

The mirrors and stall doors were covered in a thin layer of frost. Elisa leaned in close to the mirror and scraped at it gently with her nail.

Zelda peeked into one of the stalls. If she was not mistaken, there was ice in the toilet water.

“This is… this is just unacceptable.”

Elisa nodded. Zelda shook her head and sighed. Immediately Elisa pointed at her.

“What? What is it?”

Elisa took in a deep breath, opened her mouth to let it out, and then pointed at the resulting cloud.

“Yep. That’s it. It’s too cold. We’re not doing this. Come on, hunny.”

Zelda waved Elisa forwarded, already working on getting the cart out the door. Elisa took a step forward and then gasped loudly. 

When Zelda turned to look, Elisa was on her butt on the floor, silently laughing at herself. She looked up at Zelda and signed  _ ice _ .

Offering a hand to help her up, Zelda shook her head again.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt,” she scolded as Elisa, still smiling, followed her out into the only slightly warmer hallway. “Ice on the floor. And they expect us to work in this? The hell we will. Come on. We’re going to talk to Mr. Fleming about this.”

 

When they arrived at Fleming’s office, something told them he was already aware of the temperature (that thing was the fact he had his coat, gloves, and earmuffs on while sitting at his office desk).

“Mr. Fleming? You have visitors,” Fleming’s secretary Eileen said. 

He nodded and she ushered Zelda and Elisa inside.

“Yes ladies, what is it?”

“Mr. Fleming, it is much too cold to work downstairs on level three,” Zelda began. “To the point where I don’t think it’s safe for us to work there. Isn’t there a rule about not working under forty degrees? I vaguely remember-“

“There is a rule about not working under forty degrees, you are right,” Fleming said, cutting her off. “According to OCCAM policy, no non-exempt employee is to work in temperatures under forty degrees Fahrenheit unless conditions are agreed upon prior to the shift. If OCCAM fails to abide by this policy, then the employee or employees are given the shift off with full pay.”

“Yes exactly,” Zelda said cutting back in. “We did not agree on the conditions beforehand.”

“That’s incorrect.”

Zelda looked taken aback. 

“With all due respect sir,  _ I  _ did not agree to these conditions-“

“Did you receive a phone call from Eileen prior to this shift?” Fleming said. 

“Well, I did,” Zelda said slowly. “But she just said it was going to be chillier than usual.”

“Then we’ve done our due diligence,” Fleming concluded. 

“Sir, there is a difference between ‘chillier than usual’ and ‘there’s ice in the toilet downstairs’,” Zelda said, her patience growing thin. 

“It’s a matter of subjectivity,” Fleming stated with a frown. “Our only responsibility is to inform you, to place the call. There is nothing else we are responsible for.”

“But sir-”

Zelda was cut off by Elisa tapping on her arm. Zelda’s head snapped around.

“What is it?”

Fleming watched, concerned, as Elisa signed something out to Zelda.

“What did she say?” 

Elisa repeated the sign again (more so to bother than Fleming than for Zelda). 

“She says,” Zelda began, before turning smugly to Fleming. “She says that she never received a phone call.”

This time it was Fleming who looked taken aback. 

“But, but, but,” he spluttered. “Well, but of course not.”

Elisa’s eyebrows rose, as did her shoulders, as she clearly asked  _ why? _

“Well, well, it’s obvious,” Fleming said, growing visibly more nervous. “You can’t talk. So, so of course we wouldn’t call you.”

“She asks ‘why not?’” Zelda interpreted as Elisa continued to sign. “She says ‘I can  _ receive  _ phone calls, I just can’t make them’.”

Elisa and Zelda both watched with looks of smug satisfaction as Fleming squirmed as this. After a moment, he sighed and put his hands down on the desk.

“Fine. You two can go. But,” he added sharply. “Don’t breathe a word of this to the other cleaners or we will have trouble. You understand? Now go before I change my mind.”

Elisa and Zelda silently nodded and turned for the door. But before they reached the exit, Elisa waved a hand and made one last sign.

“What is it  _ now _ ?” Fleming asked dejectedly.

“She wants to make sure this is with pay,” Zelda answered. 

“Yes, yes. It is. Now go.”

Elisa and Zelda nodded again and quickly scurried out of the room. 

They replaced the cleaning cart in the store room and then practically ran down to the locker room. Once they were mostly alone, they changed into their street clothes and escaped to a  back elevator hardly used by the other cleaning staff.

Once inside, Zelda noticed the very, almost  _ overly _ satisfied look on Elisa’s face.

Then it hit her.

“Oh you  _ liar _ ,” Zelda whispered as the doors dinged and they stepped out of the elevator. “You got a phone call didn’t you?”

Elisa raised her eyebrows, doing her best to look innocent. Then she gave her best sly smirk and nodded.

“You’re gonna get us in so much damn trouble,” Zelda said, closing her eyes. “What are you gonna do when they figure out you lied to them?”

_ I didn’t lie _ . I  _ didn’t get a phone call, _ Elisa signed seriously, before her smirk returned.  _ Giles did. _

“Oh woman, you’re gonna get us both fired,” Zelda said shaking her head. “Now let’s go before they realize what’s happened.”

They quickened their pace to a brisk walk out the doors and into the harsh cold.

“I guess we better get on home.”

Elisa frowned and shook her head.

“Come on Elisa. It’s 12:45 am on a Tuesday. What is there for us to do, huh? Where are we supposed to go?”

Elisa considered this for a moment.

_ Coffee? _

“Fine, but  _ where _ ?” Zelda asked. “What place is open?”

Elisa paused again.

_ I think there is a diner nearby that is open 24 hours a day. _

A bus pulled up right in front of them just as a fierce wind kicked up. Both women barely hesitated to hop on and slip their fifteen cents into the slot.

The bus was completely empty, save for the disgruntled looking bus driver. Zelda found them seats about halfway down the bus. Elisa seemed brighter than usual.

“What?” Zelda asked suspiciously. “What’s wrong with you?”

_ Nothing. I never get to ride the bus with anyone _ , she signed happily. 

They rode a few stops and got off on an empty street. Huddled into their jackets, they ran into the only open restaurant. 

The only patrons were a few college-aged kids who looked like they were inches away from dying of exhaustion and a few individual men at tables with their hats pulled low over their faces, all nursing cups of coffee.

From across the room, a young white man in a white uniform and apron behind the counter eyed them suspiciously, or rather, he eyed  _ Zelda  _ suspiciously. Almost immediately, Elisa caught his eye. She looped an arm protectively around Zelda’s and stared him down until they had made their way to a table off towards the side.

The man watched for a moment before he crossed out from behind the counter and approached their table.

“You can’t be here,” he said in a low voice to Zelda. “You best get out of here.”

Before Zelda had the chance to speak, Elisa slapped the table hard, making the silverware (and the man) jump. She jumped to her feet and stared him down again, this time raising a finger in his face. 

She was easily a foot shorter than him, but the fury in her eyes gave the man the uncomfortable feeling of being scolded by his mother and he soon spluttered an apology before running off. Within minutes he returned with two menus and fresh cups of coffee.

Zelda and Elisa both nodded politely before he ran off again. As she passed Elisa a menu, Zelda raised an eyebrow. Elisa’s brow rose and she gave a small shake of her head. 

_ He shouldn’t talk to you like that _ , she signed with an air of finality before taking the offered menu.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, reading through the menu. As the young man made his way back to their table, Elisa pointed something out to Zelda.

“I’ll have a number twelve with no pickles, and she’ll have a number twenty three,” Zelda stated. 

“Coming right up,” the young man said with a nervous half-smile as he scooped the menus up.

“So,” Zelda began. “Did I tell you about what Brewster said to me earlier?”

Elisa shook her head as Zelda launched into her story.

“I get home a little later than usual, right, because I stopped by the store to pick up some groceries. And I get into  the house around nine or so, and he has the gall to complain that he hasn’t had breakfast yet. And meanwhile, there is a clean skillet on the stove, half a thing of eggs in the fridge. I mean, I just don’t understand him sometimes,” Zelda said, shaking her head. “When he was in the Army, he made sure everything was in top shape all the time. He cleaned the floors, scrubbed the toilet. Elisa, the man even ironed his own socks. But as soon as we moved off the base and into the city, as soon as he didn’t have to, it all stopped. I started doing the cooking and the cleaning and God help me I did it all  _ after _ coming home from work and doing it all night for other people.”

Zelda continued talking about her husband until their food arrived. Elisa sat, her chin in her hand, her expression soft as she listened to her friend talk.

As they unrolled their utensils from the napkins, Elisa sat up for a moment, looking around carefully. Zelda watched as she slowly untied her scarf, which up until now Zelda hadn’t noticed she was still wearing. 

“You warm enough now or something?”

_ Can’t eat with it on, _ Elisa replied, tucking the scarf in the sleeve of her coat before picking up her spoon. 

Zelda narrowed her eyes. 

“Why were you still wearing it?”

Elisa frowned. She looked around once more.

_ Some places make me leave. If they see my neck. _

Zelda’s brow furrowed. 

Elisa had only brought up the scars on her neck once, and that was only because she had gotten a haircut and Zelda had pointed them out. For the most part, they were unnoticeable, though Zelda guessed if one were to stare long enough...

“You serious?”

Elisa nodded, unconsciously patting down her hair. 

_ They say it ‘bothers other customers’,  _ Elisa signed, her hands low over the table.  _ Signing too. Sometimes. _

Zelda considered this for a moment. Elisa continued her thought.

_ Some people don’t like it if you’re different. _

“Ain’t that the truth,” Zelda muttered. “Well, if you stop them from kicking me out, I’ll stop them from kicking you out. Deal?”

Elisa smiled, and nodded. 

“Now, did I tell you about the phone call I got from Brewster’s sister last week?” Zelda asked, changing the subject. “She calls me last week, last Friday I think, and says she’s ‘so happy to come down and celebrate my birthday with me’ and all. She offered to call the whole family and get them together, and finally I have to stop her ask ‘Lorraine, where exactly are you expecting us to have such a party?’ and she goes ‘your house of course’. Now mind you I just hosted Thanksgiving not two weeks ago, and I’m about the host Christmas a few weeks from now and she’s going on about me hosting something else in the middle. I tell you, if I were to offer  _ her  _ to host it, she’d make some complaint about something or other and say she can’t do it. But she’s more than happy to get the rest of us to do it.”

Elisa gave one of her silent chuckles. 

As Zelda continued, Elisa’s chin found it’s way back to her hand as she watched her friend complain about her in-laws.

“And then her husband says to me ‘Zelda, you do such a great job on these gatherings, but don’t you think three in a  row is a little much?’ And Elisa, I tell you hunny, I about lost it right then and there. Was just ready to start yelling. I wanted to say ‘Lyle, you go ask your wife if three parties is too much ‘cuz this sure as hell wasn’t my idea’.”

Elisa laughed quietly, though her smile was broad. 

“There you go with that look again,” Zelda chuckled, shaking her head. 

_ What look? _

“That look you have all the time. You just look so, oh I don’t know, content? Like you’re just happy all the time,” Zelda explained. “I bore you, don’t I? Just me talking all the time. You get tired of it.”

Elisa shook her head quickly. 

_ No, no. I like it. Listening to you _ , she signed, smiling. 

“All the time though? Really? Because you almost  always have that happy look on your face,” Zelda pointed out. “Are you really that happy all the time?”

Elisa considered this for a moment, and then shrugged, nodding. 

“How?”

Elisa cocked her head to the side. 

“How are you happy all the time? How do you do it?”

Elisa paused for a moment, her fingers tapping on the table as she thought. Then she raised her hands. 

_ I have everything I need. I have a roof over my head, even if it leaks sometimes. I have food to eat. A job to pay the bills,  _ she signed.  _ Sometimes it would be nice to have a lover. And sometimes it would be nice to have a voice. But I have everything I need to live and that’s all I can ask for. But most importantly, I have friends who love me and I love them. _

Elisa reached her hand across the table and took Zelda’s hand in hers. She squeezed it for a moment willing her lip not to tremble as she signed the last part.  

_ How could I not be happy when I know you? _

Zelda opened her mouth to reply but her words caught in her throat. 

“Well hunny,” she said after a moment, taking Elisa’s hand and patting it gently with her own. “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

Elisa smiled again, her eyes welling with tears, before nodding slightly. She pulled her hand back once again.

_ I don’t say it enough, but you are very special to me _ .

“You are very special to me too,” Zelda said, nodding. 

Elisa took Zelda’s hand once more and held it. For a moment they both sat in silence, considering just how much the other woman meant to them. 

Soon enough, the waiter came around and dropped off a check. Elisa snatched it away before Zelda could even reach for it. 

They walked in silence up to the register where Elisa handed the man a few dollar bills from her pocketbook. 

As they made their way out back into the cold to board their separate buses home, Elisa held out a hand to stop Zelda. 

“What is it?”

Elisa adjusted herself so that, despite the fact that her coat, scarf, and hat made it virtually impossible to see any part of her, her hands were visible.

_ I love you and I’m so happy you are my friend. _

“Aw hunny,” Zelda said, stepping forward and pulling Elisa into a hug. “I love you too.”

As the hug broke apart, Zelda could just see Elisa’s eyes through her winter wear, but they were shining with joy.

“Alright. You better get on home before you catch a cold. Or worse freeze to death,” Zelda said, just as a chilly wind hit them from behind. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Elisa nodded. 

Behind them, the number 3 bus was pulling up. Elisa waved before hopping on. She continued waving, her smile hidden underneath her scarf, until the bus had pulled away.

Not long after, Zelda crossed the street to catch the number 7 heading north. As she deposited her fare and found her seat, she caught herself smiling. 

OCCAM Aerospace was not the nicest place she’d ever been, and often times she dreaded her shifts, what with the promise of cleaning up other people’s messes, aching feet, and probably a problem or two with the scientists. But she had to admit, in the almost ten years Elisa had been working with her, the nights there weren’t so bad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line "some people don't like it if you're different" is from Maudie (2016) and I totally didn't realize that until I published this. It's also a Sally Hawkins movie and it's worth the watch if you're interested.


	6. Loft Apartments, 1946

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've explored how I believe Elisa and Zelda's relationship to have begun, so I decided to take a crack at Elisa and Giles' too. It's not as... let's just say it takes a little more time than it did with Zelda.  
> I appreciate all your kudos and comments. I don't know how many more chapters this will have, but at least one more (mostly because I can't end it on this). Maybe I'll get fishboi involved. After all, this is all about relationships...  
> Anways, enjoy!

**Loft Fire Escape**

**June 1946**

 

Giles blinked awake as sunlight poured in from his windows. 

Groaning, he turned over and glanced at the clock: 11:37 am.

Normally, he’d be mad at himself for sleeping in so late. It was almost noon. He’d wasted half his Saturday. But today, he was just relieved he fell asleep at all, even if it had been four o’clock before he finally did.

In the two months since he had moved to this side of town, he’d barely slept a wink, but could not for the life of him figure out why.

Work was going well. In fact, his work had been used for an NBC advertisement in Time Magazine, and his colleague Bernie had promised he would see some of the royalties from it. 

The apartment was fine. It was smaller than his last one, but it had the basics. Sure, pulling the bed down to sleep every night wasn’t exactly great, but it had nice natural light.

He suspected it was his personal life, for one reason and one reason alone: he had nobody. 

As he got up to get dressed, the scene replayed in his head, asit had every morning and every night since the incident.

He had been over for tea with his neighbor Mrs. Barbara Seville. She had been pleasant to him the entire time he’d lived there, always inviting him over for dinner. They would talk about current events, and during the war years, he’d been there to comfort her as her adult son was overseas in Germany. When he returned home safe following D-Day, she had invited him to celebrate with their family. 

He had considered her a true friend. 

That had been his mistake. 

Almost exactly two months prior to this Saturday in June, Giles had let slip that he was having a male guest over for dinner. At some point in the conversation (he still couldn’t tell exactly when), she seemed to figure out the intention of his meeting was romantic in nature.

Not realizing anything was wrong, he left the visit and returned to his apartment to prepare for his date. Less than an hour later, the landlord was at his door with an eviction notice. Apparently, a neighbor had reported him bringing men into their complex with the intention of “immoral sexual activity”.

Giles was packed and gone by the morning. 

So now here he was. Forty-six, alone, and living in a small apartment feeling cut off from the rest of the world. Now wonder he couldn’t sleep.

Giles fixed himself a piece of toast and gathered up his sketchbook, pencils, and charcoal. His new landlord owned the movie theatre downstairs, and had commissioned him to sketch an ad for the newspaper. 

As he made his way out he door, a petite figure came flying out of the door opposite his and down the hallway. She was toting two large bags of trash, and seemed to have barely noticed him. Her door stood slightly ajar, and from within her apartment, he could hear the faint sounds of a radio playing.

“Morning,” he muttered. 

The young woman didn’t seem to hear him, and he was okay with that.

Less than three hours after he had moved his stuff into this new apartment, the young woman had been at his door. She handed him a plate of homemade cookies along with a handwritten note explaining that her name was Elisa, she was mute (hence the note), and she wanted to invite him over to her place for dinner. 

Not eager to make friends with his neighbors again, he had accepted neither cookies nor dinner. Relentless, she tried again a few weeks later, and then again a few weeks after that. 

Finally, when she knocked on his door a few nights ago right after he returned home from a particularly bad day at work, he put his foot down.

“Listen to me. You  _ can  _ hear me, right?” he said angrily. 

The girl, eyes wide, nodded quickly. 

“I am not nor will I ever have dinner with you. I’m  not interested .  You understand me?” Giles said, his voice loud and firm. “Don’t bother me again.”

And with that, he slammed his door shut. 

Immediately, he was filled with shame and guilt.

She was very young, barely out of her teens he guessed, and yelling at her like that made him feel like an irate parent reprimanding a child. Her eyes had looked so sad, so scared, and there had even been a moment where she flinched, like she expected him to hit her.

It made him feel so much worse than he already did,  but the dark voice in his head told him not to worry about it. It was going to be better this way.

She had done what he asked, and had not knocked on his door since.

Giles made his way down the iron stairs. Elisa  _ had  _  noticed him, it seemed, as she paused next to the stairs for him to come down, before running back up them herself.

He crossed the street and settled into a comfortable position on the bus stop bench across from the theatre. He flipped to a fresh page in his sketchbook and picked out an appropriate pencil. 

Before long, his darker thoughts had drifted away. His head filled only with thoughts about the work, connecting his eyes to his hand and making the paper grow with lines and details. 

Around 2pm, he set his pencil down to give his hand a rest. As he sat there, flexing his fingers, he watched as the door to the loft apartments opened and Elisa came out. This time, instead of trash, she carried her pocketbook.

She turned left once she hit the sidewalk and walked off, returning thirty or forty minutes later with a paper bag full of groceries. 

He took this as a cue to get back to work, only just then realizing how much time he had been watching the people on the street instead of sketching.

A few hours later, he set his pencil down once more. 

The sketch wasn’t half bad for being crap. 

He felt he had managed to get the feel of the theatre, with it’s big bright marquee and steady stream of patrons in and out of the doors. Movies were still a huge draw post-war, even if the newsreels weren’t nearly as exciting or important.

Giles looked down at his watch. 

5:53 pm. He’d been drawing for nearly six hours. 

Satisfied with his work, he tucked his pencil and other supplies back into his box and stood up. He stretched, yawning and started his way back upstairs. 

But as he started to cross the street, he noticed the loft door open once more. 

Elisa stepped out onto the small landing. She no longer wore an apron and slacks as she had earlier while cleaning, but a simple purple dress. Her hair was down now, the scarf she had worn to tie it back while working replaced with a purple headband.

She scanned the street below her, her right wrist raised to show her the time. After a moment of scanning, she spun on her heel and walked back inside. 

Giles crossed the street and climbed up the narrow stairs towards his own apartment. 

Once inside the hallway, he caught sight of her open door, open for both a visitor and hopes of a breeze. The scent of roast chicken and the sound of the Count Basie Orchestra wafted into the hall. Giles’ mouth watered. 

He’d been living off take out and whatever he could pick up from the corner store, and the idea of a home cooked meal made his stomach growl. 

But he continued on past the open door and into his own apartment. He left his door open too, hoping it, coupled with his electric fan would help cool down the place.

There was a quiet scuffle outside of his door as Elisa rushed out once more to check for her guest. A split second later, she returned, alone.

This behavior continued a few more times. Giles started checking his watch every time she ran out, out of curiosity: 6:05 pm, 6:17 pm, 6:25 pm, and 6:32 pm.

Upon returning the last time, there was clear dejection on her face. He watched from his sofa as she stepped inside and slowly closed the door behind her. 

Not a minute later, a handsome young man in a serviceman’s uniform wandered up to the door. He consulted the letter in his hand and then knocked on the door slightly to his left. When he noticed Giles’ open door and the man watching, he gave Giles a quick, curt nod.

As he turned back, the door in front of him opened just a crack, and then all the way. 

Giles could just barely see her in the doorway from his vantage point, but as the young man swept his hat off his head and she stepped forward to greet him, she was beaming. 

“I’m sorry I was late. The staff sergeant was putting us through our paces, but here I am. Private Joseph Scaglione, reporting for dinner. Shall we?” the man asked, a pleasant smile on his face.

Elisa nodded happily and stepped back to let him inside.

The pair disappeared from his view, but he could still hear them clearly from his perch on the sofa as the young man had left the door open behind him.

“So,” he heard the young man say. “It’s finally nice to meet you in person. I’ve really enjoyed your letters, though some of ‘em? Wow wee. They were almost too much. You’ve got quite a sharp wit about ya. I’ve gotta say I dig that in a girl.”

There was silence, presumably as Elisa replied to him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the man said, his tone no longer happy but serious and confused. “What are you doing with your hands?”

There was another quiet moment. 

“You… you really can’t talk, can you?” he said, his tone now hesitant yet somehow severe. “When you said that in the letter, I thought it was like a figure of speech or something. I didn’t think you- you really couldn’t…”

The man’s words tapered off. Giles watched as the man reappeared outside the door.

“I can’t- I don’t-” he muttered, shaking his head as he backed up. “I can’t do th- what the hell am I even doing here…”

He turned to leave, but Elisa, unseen from within the doorway, grabbed his shoulder. He tried to shrug it off, but her grip was strong. He pulled her a step or two into the hall.

“Let-let go of me,” he said, finally shaking her grasp. Then he raised a finger and pointed it right at her. “I did not agree to this. To- to you.”

And with that, breathing heavy, the man turned on his heel and stormed away, leaving Elisa alone in the hall. 

For a moment she just stared after him, her mouth slightly agape. Her eyes brimmed with tears as her chest began to heave. 

Giles was ready to call after her, but she turned and ran back into the apartment, slamming the door so hard behind her that his framed art on the wall shook.

As if it was what he needed to think about at this moment, Giles was immediately reminded of himself slamming the door in her face not two days ago. 

Then, before he had even consciously decided to, he was at her door knocking.

For a moment, there was nothing, no sound of footsteps or anything. And then slowly, the door opened slightly, enough for her to peek her head out. 

It seemed to take her a second to recognize him, but when she did, her eyes grew in panic as she remembered their previous meeting and connected it with the fact that she had just slammed the door shut.

Immediately, she pushed the door open slightly more and began to mouth “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over, one hand raised defensively while the other made circles on her chest with a closed fist. 

“I’m not going to yell at you,” Giles said quickly, raising a hand slightly, mirroring her defensive position. “I’m- I’m not going to yell. I-I never should have in the first place. And I should have apologized sooner for that. I’m sorry.”

She just stared for a moment, her lip trembling. Her hands stopped moving, but she didn’t lower them.

“I just saw what happened…” Giles said slowly. 

Elisa looked down at her shoes as she closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. Giles watched as the tears fell anyways. 

“I’m sorry,” Giles continued. “He’s- he’s a real drip. A real asshole.”

Elisa hiccuped at the sound of the swear, but didn’t look up. 

“And I thought, well maybe you might still want a dinner guest. Since you went to all this trouble.”

Elisa considered this for a moment, before she finally looked up. Her head was turned just the slightest bit as she tried to figure out if he meant it.

“I was being an asshole too,” he admitted. “Saying that we’d never have dinner. You were just trying to be nice, and I was… well, I was scared. The last people- my last neighbors turned out to be not so nice. And I didn’t want to go through that again. But I went too far, and I hurt your feelings, and I’m really sorry.”

Elisa bit her lip.

“I understand if you don’t want me to join you,” Giles said with a weak smile. “But I did want to extend the offer.”

Giles smiled slightly once more as he made to turn away, but just as he took a step towards his apartment, he felt a hand gently touch his shoulder.

When he turned back, the door was opened farther, though Elisa was still half-hidden behind it. She nodded him in though, and he stepped inside. 

The place smelled strongly of chicken and also cleanser. Every inch appeared to be scrubbed within an inch of its life, and even though the sun outside the window had not yet set, he could see light peek up from beneath the floorboards. The apartment both seemed bigger and somehow smaller than his own. 

Elisa waved him to one of the places set at the table. He took a seat and she sat opposite him. 

“Uh, may I?” Giles asked, picking up a fork and pointing at the plate.

She nodded vigorously, but still looked very nervous. 

Giles went ahead and took a bite, and couldn’t help himself from moaning in delight.

“This is delicious,” Giles said in between bites of chicken and potatoes. “That guy? He’s missing out.”

Elisa smiled slightly, but did not touch her own plate. Her hands remained in her lap.

“Aren’t you… don’t you want to eat? It really is very good. I’m not lying to you I promise.”

Elisa nodded slightly at his comment, but she was distracted. 

“Are… are you thinking about, about him?” Giles said slowly. “Because you shouldn’t. You should just forget about him. Trust me. You can do better.”

This did not appear to be the right thing to say.

Elisa bit her lip again, as tears started pouring from her eyes. She raised a hand to her forehead, and shook her head.

“What? What is it?” Giles asked quickly, dropping his utensils to his plate. “Is it because I said you can do better? Because you can I promise.”

Elisa shook her head harder. 

“This is just one- this is just one guy. One jerk. You- there are more guys out there. A lot of guys.  _ Too  _ many guys. There’s half-decent ones out there. And full-decent ones too. I promise.”

_ But I’m- I’m _ , she signed, her anguish making her forget he couldn’t understand her.  _ But what if there’s not? _

“If… if there’s not?” Giles asked. Elisa nodded. “Well… if there’s not, then, then…”

Giles took a deep breath.

“Then we’ll both be shit outta luck, won’t we?”

And with that, he waited. He ignored the dark, pessimistic voice in his head which reminded him of his last apartment.  

He’d gone and outed himself again, and this time, the one he’d outed himself too didn’t even know him well. She’d probably do the same thing as the last, and he’d have to find a new place to live. 

He waited with bated breath as she finished crying and wiped her eyes with a nice cloth napkin she had set out for dinner. As she laid it back down on the table and took a few more deep breaths, she did something totally unexpected.

She smiled. 

In fact, she laughed. In between lingering sniffs and tears, Elisa let out a silent giggle.

She raised her hands, but stopped, instead opting to grab a pen and notepad out of a nearby draw. She scribbled something on it and then handed it to him.

_ Shit outta luck? _

Giles read the phrase three times before he looked up at her. 

“Yeah. Shit outta luck. What, you never heard that before?” 

Elisa nodded, affirming she had, before raising a hand and running two fingers down her nose twice. When he gave a questioning look, she picked up the pad and scribbled on it once more.

_ It’s funny _ .

“Ah. Well if you like that, I’ve got many more just like it. I’d give a rough estimate of at least… fifty-four different phrases with the word ‘shit’ in it.”

Elisa raised an eyebrow and then signed  _ fifty-four _ ?

“Yes. Fifty-four.”

Elisa gave a small smirk, and then pulled the pad back and ripped off the top piece and started numbering the next page, leaving blank spaces next to each number to be filled in later.

“Wait, wait. Are-are you challenging me? To see if I can do it?” Giles asked, taken aback. 

Elisa nodded, and then tapped her pencil on her pad, encouraging him to start. 

“Okay. I will accept that challenge, but,” he said, raising a finger. “You have to eat first. You worked too hard on this meal not to at least enjoy it.”

 

Later that night, after he had gotten Elisa to eat, he had managed only to name twenty-eight phrases containing the word ‘shit’ in them. He had then watched to his surprise (and concern) as Elisa filled in at least twelve. 

They then each had a piece of the fruit tart Elisa had prepared for her (not-such-a) gentleman caller, before he bade her goodnight and returned to his apartment. 

Listening to the last songs of the night from her radio as the sound drifted in through the open window, he pulled down his Murphy bed and settled in for the night. Soon, there was silence as the host signed off and she shut it off for the night. 

As he lay there, listening to the sound of the city at night, he thought about how much he had missed having someone to call a friend. But it wasn’t until he woke up the next day after a good ten hours of sleep that he realized just how much he needed it.


	7. The McAllister House, 1924

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said I couldn't end on the last chapter because I needed to end on something happier... and then I went somewhere really dark. So I'll definitely have to keep writing until I get to a good one that isn't dark. Anyways...  
> (spoilers)  
> I have been back and forth on whether or not Elisa was in some way a fishperson or not. ThoughtfulFangirl wrote a wonderful piece called "[The Sea God's Maiden](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13233837)" which goes into a headcanon of Elisa having a more magical background. It's excellent and you should definitely read it.  
> But as I went back and forth, I decided I wanted to take a crack at what could have been a non-magical explanation of how she ended up... where she ended up. But I will warn you, it got dark pretty fast. Consider this your warning.
> 
> **TW: Abuse, some violence**
> 
> As always, I appreciate your reading my work, your kudos, and your comments. Thank you!

**The McAllister House**

June 1924

 

John paced back and forth across the floor, rubbing his calloused hand over his stubbly chin.

“And you’re- you’re sure, right?”

Ella huffed, her arms crossed.

“John, do you know what women do every month?” she hissed, her voice low. “Our… monthly cycle, as it were?”

John stopped pacing and shifted uncomfortably. 

“I, uh, vaguely remember my ma telling my sisters about it.”

“Yes, well, women bleed once a month,” Ella said, just in case he stlil wasn’t sure. “And if the monthly bleed stops… well, normally that means that… John, it’s been three months. If I didn’t think I was sure the first two months, I’m definitely sure now.”

John nodded, biting his lip. 

“And… and there’s no way it’s-”

“Daniel and I have been-” Ella let out a deep breath and rolled her eyes. “Daniel and I have not and  _ will _ not until our wedding night. So… it’s yours.”

John nodded again. Ella watched as he swept his newsboy cap off his head and scratched at his hair. She could see some of the soot leftover from his workday fall away as he touched it, leaving dark spots on the pristine green carpet.

He appeared deep in thought.

“Alright,” he said finally. “I think I know what we have to do.”

John stepped closer to Ella. He took one of her pale hands in his.

“Run away with me Ella,” he whispered. “We can leave Baltimore. Together. Just you, me, and the baby. Hell, I’ve been saving money, pinching pennies since before I could walk. I’ve got enough to get us out West somewhere. A nice house out in the country.”

Ella squeezed her eyes shut, and shook her head.

“But my father-”

“Forget your father,” John urged. “Forget him. Come with me and we’ll be happy together.”

Ella let go of John’s hands and pushed him away.

“You don’t understand. My father, he’s a powerful man,” Ella explained. “If he were to find out about us-”

“He’d disown you? Ella, I’ve heard this story before. And I told you. We don’t need money. We have each other-”

“John, please,” Ella spat, cutting him off. “It’s not about the money. John, my father is a powerful man. He cares more about our family name and about the business the does any of us. He wouldn’t just disown me.... He’d hurt you. He’d hurt the baby.”

Tears started gathering at the corners of Ella’s eyes. She stepped back towards John and took his hand in hers. 

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she said softly. “I can’t let him do that to you.”

“But if we run away-” John started.

“Then he’d find us!” Ella snapped. “He owns half the city. You don’t think he’d be able to track us down?”

John stared at her for a moment. 

“Ella. If you love me, you’ll run away with me.”

“I  _ do _ love you, John. I  _ do _ ,” Ella said, the tears now flowing freely down her cheeks. “But, but I can’t go away with you. He’d, John, he’d kill you. And the baby. I don’t want that. So, so just leave. Go. Leave, and, and don’t come back.”

Ella turned away from him. He could hear her try to stifle her sobs, but it didn’t work. 

“Ella, I’m not leaving without you. I’d rather die.”

There was silence for a moment, save for Ella’s chest-heaving breaths.

“Then at least I know you understand what’s at stake.”

John stared at her back for a long moment. She wouldn’t turn to face him, and a small part of him was satisfied that it was because if she looked at him, she’d go with him. But she wouldn’t turn around. 

He squeezed his hat in his hands. 

No. It would not end like this.

Without a word, John turned and marched out of her bedroom door. 

Ella heard the sound of the door close behind him, and immediately chased after him. He could hear her pleading for him to stop from down the hall, but he didn’t.

He paused only for a moment in front of the large oaken doors to the formal parlor before he swung them open and stepped inside. 

Ella skidded to a halt at the door just in time to see John step in front of his father. She could see him look her father straight in the eye but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. 

She didn’t have to.

Her father stared at the man in front of him. Not even a man, just a tall skinny kid in men’s overalls. 

His head turned from the boy to his daughter in the doorway to his left, and then back to the boy. 

It appeared for a moment, that he was not going to react at all. 

But then, as quick as a flash, his hand shot across the boys face, knocking him to the ground. Servants that seemed to appear out of nowhere rushed in and grabbed the boy by the arms and dragged him away.

Ella screamed after him, but more servants rushed to the doorway and grabbed her. She wrestled against them with all her might, her voice growing hoarse as she continued to yell. 

She watched in horror as John’s feet, limp and unmoving, were dragged out of sight. 

She pulled harder against those restraining her, and jerked her head back. It connected with one of her assailants heads and immediately she felt woozy. Time seemed to slow as the world around her grew fuzzier and fuzzier until it faded to black.

 

Ella awoke in a dark room. Her head pounding, she slowly sat up and squinted through the darkness to get a better idea of her surroundings.

She felt around the bedside table for a lamp. When she found it, she pulled the chain and recoiled as the room filled with light. 

It was her own room. The chairs, the bed. It was all hers. 

She slowly rose from beneath the thin sheets to explore the room. It all looked the same. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Wondering for a moment if the whole encounter was just some terrible dream, Ella was taken aback when some figure in the corner moved.

“Oh. Margaret. You gave me such a fright,” Ella said, a hand over her chest. “Where’s John?”

The young maid’s were downcast in deference. If Ella hadn’t known better, she would have believed the girl to be showing guilt.

“I do not know, miss.”

“Then where is my father?”

“He is out to attend business, miss.”

“I need to see him. Take me to him-” Ella said, starting for the door, only to be stopped as one of Margaret’s hands shot out.

“I cannot allow that, miss.”

Ella’s breathing grew quick. Panic started to rise in her chest.

“Then take me to see Daniel. I need to speak with Daniel.”

“Mister Watts was informed that your elderly aunt in Philadelphia has taken ill and that you will be away for six months to attend to her.”

Ella’s brow furrowed. 

“I don’t- I don’t have an elderly aunt in Philadelphia. What are you talk-”

“I’m sorry, miss. But you must stay here.”

Margaret inclined her head slightly and took a step back. Ella made to move forward, to follow the girl as she left the door, but her head was still aching. She moved far slower than Margaret, and by the time she reached the door, it was already bolted shut.

 

The next six months passed in agonizing monotony and loneliness.

The love of her life presumed dead and her fiancé believing her to be hours away and unreachable, Ella spent her days in bed, wasting away. 

For the first few weeks, she tried to read, to write, to do  _ anything  _ to ease her mind. But as time went on and her stomach expanded, she started to feel more and more hopeless.

Finally, as she neared her fortieth week, pain started growing in her abdomen. The doctor was called, as was a midwife and a few maids. 

The pain was excruciating and lasted for hours upon hours. Her body was weak, and every push felt like it had exerted all her energy. 

She started to dip in and out of consciousness towards the end. 

“Just one more push Miss McAllister. One more push and it’s all over,” the doctor said encouragingly. 

Ella took a deep shaky breath as Margaret dabbed a damp cloth on her forehead. With one final groan, she pushed with all her might. 

She barely had time to register the sound of the baby crying before she blacked out.

 

As she came to, she saw Margaret standing near her bed. 

“Where’s… where’s the baby?” Ella breathed. 

Margaret just stared down at the floor.

“Margaret…” Ella said, trying to sit up a little. “Margaret where’s my baby?”

Margaret said nothing. Instead she just shook her head.

“Margaret… Margaret, please,” Ella said, her breathing growing faster. “Margaret, what happened? Please tell me. What happened?”

“It did not make it, miss,” Margaret said in a low voice. “Your baby did not make it.”

Tears started to pour from Ella’s eyes. 

“No,” she choked. “No. It can’t be. I heard her. I heard my baby. I want to see her.”

“I’m very sorry, miss,” Margaret said, tears started to drip from her own eyes. “I’m truly very sorry.”

Ella started to sob. Not just sob,  _ wail.  _ Her shrieks and cries woke the entire house. 

She cried until there were no more tears left. She cried until all her energy had been spent. She cried until her voice was gone, and there was only sobbing breath to fill the silence. 

 

Across town, in a shady room off a dark alley, Roger McAllister stood, arms crossed.

Across from him was a shifty-looking man in a dirty trench coat. His equally dirty hat was pulled low over his face so only his almost-toothless grin was visible.

“So you want me to, uh, take care of it or, uh,  _ take care of it _ ?” the man said in a low whisper, winking as he repeated the offer. 

Mr. McAllister frowned at the man’s sly sneer. 

“As much as I want to get this, this  _ stain _ off my family tree, even I cannot condone that,” he stated. 

To his left, the baby lay in a makeshift cradle made from an orange crate and a few blankets. It let out a strangled cry.

“Alright, alright,” the man said, raising his hands defensively. “Don’t do nothing bad. I get it.”

“I just need the matter to be solved quickly and  _ discreetly _ ,” Mr. McAllister emphasized. “As you well know, I am a very important man. I cannot let this get out, but I’m a God-fearing man, and I cannot condone any… Well.”

Mr. McAllister cut himself off, the rest of his sentence unnecessary to explain

“I get it. Get it outta sight, but don’t uh...”

The man lost his train of thought as the baby’s crying grew louder. 

“Get it outta sight…” the man repeated, but he continued to be interrupted by the loud cries of the newborn.

Mr. McAllister looked around nervously. 

“Can’t you make it stop that?” he hissed. “It’s going to get us discovered.”

“Oh, I can stop a baby from crying, but it ain’t pretty, that’s for sure,” the man said with a dark chuckle.

“Anything. Do whatever you need to,” Mr. McAllister said quickly. “Just get it to stop crying. Get it to stop crying, and get rid of it discreetly and I’ll pay you  _ double _ our agreed upon fee.”

The man sneered once more. 

“Triple.”

Mr. McAllister opened his mouth to argue, but the baby’s cries were now so strong, he was sure that they would be noticed. 

“ _ Fine _ ,” he said, pulling out his wallet and slapping the money on the table. “Take it. I must leave before I get discovered here.”

And with that, Mr. McAllister spun on his heel and rushed out of the dark room and into the alley. He stood for a moment, regaining his composure, before pulling the door shut behind him, closing out the baby’s cries and this chapter of his life. 

**Nineteen years later**

Elisa sat at the bus stop, her pocketbook and lunch securely on her lap. 

The sun had barely risen above the buildings on her block, but the street was already starting to wake. 

Women in slacks and blouses came out from their houses and apartments here to the main street to gather for carpools or catch the bus to work. A few toted sleepy children along with them, no doubt taking them to the babysitter or to grandma for the day while they worked. 

The number nine bus tended to run a little behind in the mornings, which Elisa didn’t mind at all. Though she had gotten better (in her own opinion) of getting out of the door on time, she still wasn’t very punctual when it came to catching the bus. 

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths and listening to the sounds of the city as it came to life. After a moment she opened her eyes once more to see the lights of the Orpheum sparkle in the morning light.

A middle aged woman in a scarf and dress took a seat next to her on the bus bench. Elisa scooted over slightly as she woman sat down a few shopping bags. Given the amount of bags and that some of them contained what appeared to be extra rations of sugar and fruit, the woman clearly had to have a good deal of money.

Elisa checked her watch, keenly aware the woman had glanced in her direction. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the woman was still turned in her direction. 

It wasn’t unusual of course- she often tied her hair up at home before her commute to the factory, and with her hair tied back, the scars on the sides of her neck were hard to miss. But usually people only glanced once maybe twice. Rarely did she have anyone turn their head and stare for a good while. 

Unconsciously (or maybe consciously, she wasn’t quite sure), she shifted her shoulders, if only to indicate that she knew she was being watched. If people did stare, this was often enough to make them either realize they were doing it or at least realize she  _ knew _ that they were doing it.

But the woman still wouldn’t look away.

Finally, Elisa gave the woman a quick side-eye before turning her head slightly in the woman’s direction. She made pointed eye contact with the woman for a moment, before briefly raising her eyebrows.

The woman shook her head slightly, blinking, as she came to herself.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” the woman said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just- well, you look so familiar… We… do we know each other?”

Elisa gave a the woman a quick once over. The woman looked vaguely familiar, but Elisa knew they had never met, so she just shook her head.

“Oh. Well. I do apologize,” the woman said, offering a small smile. “Though as I’ve brought it up, I might as well introduce myself.”

She pulled off one of her nice gloves ( _ Gloves? During a war? Who the hell is this woman? _ ) and offered a hand to Elisa to shake. 

“I’m Ella Watts.”

Elisa hesitated for a moment, before shaking the woman’s hand. The woman raised her eyebrows.

“And… you are?”

Elisa raised her hand and spelled out her name. The woman was momentarily confused, but seemed to connect the signs with the scars on Elisa’s neck, and instead just smiled. 

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you.”

Just at that moment, the number nine bus pulled up in front of them. Elisa breathed a sigh of relief and smiled politely to the woman as she pointed to the bus. The woman returned the smile and nodded. 

Gathering her stuff up, Elisa stood and took a step forward towards the bus’ door, when she felt the urgent need to turn around.

_ Nice to meet you too, Ella _ , she signed, before spinning around and boarding the bus.

Ella stared after her for a moment, before she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“There you are,” a man’s voice said in a pleasant tone. “I’d wondered where you got off to.”

“Just needed a little air,” Ella said, distracted, still staring after the bus.

“Ella? What’s wrong?”

Ella looked up at her husband for a moment and then back in the direction of the now-departed bus. She shook her head and started gathering up her bags.

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just…” she let out a deep breath. “It’s just that girl. She had- she had John’s eyes.”

“John? John who?” her husband asked. “Wait, you mean that chimney sweep? The one who used to work for your father?”

“Yes. That’s the one.”

Her husband paused, observing his wife, who continued to stare after the bus.

“But… he didn’t have any children did he?”

Ella hesitated for a moment, before turning to look at her husband.

“No. He didn’t,” she said. “Must just be a trick of the light.”

“Come on dear. Let’s go get some breakfast.”

Ella smiled as her husband led the way down the street towards a diner. She followed him and occasionally responded to whatever it was her husband was saying, but her mind was still with the girl.

She had  _ definitely _ had John’s eyes. There was no doubt about it. She had stared into them enough times to remember what they looked like. 

But that didn’t seem to bother her as much as another thing she noticed. 

The girl had John’s eyes… and her nose.


End file.
